The Shattered Pulse

The city trembled. The hum from below swelled into a deafening vibration, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the rooftop beneath Orion's feet. The Eschaton Judge stood motionless, its many eyes flickering in chaotic patterns as if processing something beyond his understanding. Then, without warning, it stepped backwards, dissolving into the void like ink spreading in water. It was retreating.

Orion barely had time to process the sudden shift before the air itself seemed to bend. The skyline warped, distant buildings elongating and twisting like reflections in shattered glass. From the alleyways and streets below, a second presence emerged. It was not human.

A towering figure strode into view, its form shifting between sleek metallic plating and something more organic, more alive. Blue circuits pulsed beneath its skin—if it could even be called that—tracing intricate patterns that pulsed in sync with the energy distorting the air. A helmet, smooth and featureless, concealed its face, save for a single glowing line that ran vertically down the centre, splitting into branching veins of light.

Orion's gut twisted. He recognized this feeling—the way reality itself seemed to strain in its presence. This being, whatever it was, had the same essence as the Judges. But it wasn't one of them.

"Orion Vale."

The voice was cold, layered with a strange reverberation, as though spoken by multiple voices at once. The figure lifted a hand, palm outward, and in an instant, Orion's body locked in place. He fought against it, muscles straining, but his limbs refused to obey. An invisible force pressed down on him, anchoring him to the rooftop. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"You are an anomaly," the figure continued. "An error in the sequence. You should not exist."

Orion's mind reeled. Anomaly? Error? What did that even mean? His pulse pounded against his skull, his instincts screaming at him to move, to fight, but his body remained unresponsive.

The figure took another step forward, extending its other hand. Energy crackled around its fingertips, raw and untamed, like a storm barely contained within the flesh. A sensation of inevitability washed over Orion—he knew what was about to happen.

It was going to erase him.

Panic flared. The burning in his chest returned, more intense than before. His vision blurred, the rooftop around him flickering between states—solid, crumbling, nonexistent. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, syncing with the pulsing energy deep within him.

And then—

The pressure snapped.

A shockwave erupted from Orion's body, a pulse of force that sent the figure stumbling backwards. The invisible restraints shattered, and he gasped as control flooded back into his limbs. His fingers twitched, energy dancing across his skin. He didn't understand what had just happened, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Move.

He spun, sprinting toward the edge of the rooftop. The city blurred past him, neon lights reflecting off wet concrete. He could hear the figure behind him recovering, recalibrating, but he didn't look back. He reached the ledge and leapt.

For a brief moment, he was weightless, suspended over the abyss of the city below. The winds howled past his ears. Then, just as gravity took hold, his body flickered again, shifting between states.

Choice. Divergence. Possibility.

Orion landed hard, rolling onto a fire escape a few stories below. The impact rattled through his bones, but he forced himself to his feet. He looked up just in time to see the figure staring down at him from the rooftop, its glowing line of light pulsating in silent calculation.

Then, it spoke one final time.

"This is only the beginning."

And in the next instant, it vanished.

Orion's breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. His hands trembled. His mind whirled with questions, but one thing was clear—whoever these beings were, they had plans for him.

And he had just become their greatest problem.

To be continued...